44. Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Four
Ronan
S weat, copper, sharp ammonia and sour bile hang in the stagnant air.
It’s the kind of rot that seeps into your skin and takes up residence in your bones.
I wade through black water rippling over pitted concrete, our muffled footsteps amplifying every drip.
The only light comes from the swinging flashlight beams, casting jittering shadows against moldy cinderblock.
Jax’s silhouette edges ahead of me, shoulders hunched and jaw clenched as he scans for anything we might have missed. We’ve cleared the three remaining locations, burned an entire day combing through the wreckage of Hardwick’s empire, and still the fear inside me gnaws deeper .
All we’ve found are ghosts of agony and the chemical tang of old bleach that will never mask the horrors this place has known. I’m wired, thrumming with the sick certainty that we’re too late. Every second we waste is another heartbeat where Leah isn’t safe.
Cole’s voice cuts through the silence. "This place is a grave."
His flashlight skims over a tangle of chains, the links streaked with rust. I catch the glint of a filthy bucket kicked into a corner, crusted and reeking. The echoes of suffering are so thick I can barely breathe.
Adrian crouches by an overturned gurney, a rust color stains the torn webbing.
Old blood leached from tortured victims. Needles and shattered blister packs scatter the floor alongside cartons of emptied vials.
I don’t let myself imagine who lay there last, or what was taken from them.
All I can see are Leah’s wrists, the ligature scars healed but never forgotten.
The rage living inside me is a live wire.
I want to tear this place apart with my bare hands, but I force the anger back down.
I can’t afford to lose focus, not while Hardwick is still out there, fucking somewhere .
Phoenix is all business, marking each detail with a grim expression. Asher spots a battered terminal, half-buried under broken glass and medical waste. His flashlight reveals the smashed screen, trailing wires, a brick-red smear along its side.
"If there’s anything left on this, I’ve got the best tech guys in the city. If it can be recovered, they’ll do it," he says, signaling a member of his team over for removal.
Jax’s jaw is iron. "Hardwick knows how to burn a trail. This is a needle in a haystack, Ronan. She covered her tracks.”
I want to break something because Jax is right.
Instead, I press my back against the wall and let the cold soak through my jacket, forcing breath in and out of my lungs.
We’ve found no trace. No fresh scent. Just the remains of someone else’s horror, and the feral, twisting worry that this story is nowhere near finished.
While Hardwick is out there, Leah has a target on her back and every hour, every second, the danger sharpens .
My rage is a bitter, useless thing. I swallow it down and keep moving because there’s nothing else to do.
"We’ll go back. Search through every room. Every tunnel again." Jax’s eyes are on me as officers shift in the shadows. We’re all exhausted, but I can’t stop. "We’re missing something."
My phone vibrates, and I nearly drop it before stabbing to answer when I see its Gabe. I put it on speaker so Jax can hear. "Ronan. Dr. Maverick found a tracker in Leah’s neck. Right against her spine. She needs surgery. She’s…she’s going in now, brother."
The darkness surrounding us leeches into my brain, It’s hard to hear him, hard to think.
Gabriel presses on despite my silence, his voice shaky. "It showed up on the MRI he ran this morning and it’s…it’s active. Ronan. It’s been broadcasting her location the whole time. It’s how they found her at Harrow Street. It has to be."
Raw, blistering rage fills me. No wonder they found her in the garden. No wonder they always seemed a step ahead. They just had to sit and wait for the perfect opportunity to grab her.
I hear Leah’s soft tones in the background. "She wants to talk to you both," Gabe says.
The phone shifts, muffled fumbling on the other end. "Ronan?" Leah’s voice is tight with fear she can’t hide.
"I’m here, Kitten."
A fragile breath. “Where have you been?”
I wince, guilt surging as my phone finally lights up in my pocket, the screen overflowing with missed calls and unread messages. Of course we should have checked in, but no one’s phone had a signal underground.
As we emerge and the first notifications come flooding in, I glance at Leah. “I’m sorry, Leah. I should have called. We lost signal down there. I just wanted to bring you good news and—"
"I’ m scared."
I close my eyes, fighting the urge to tear apart everything in reach, to make her safe with sheer force of will. "I know you are. But you’re in the best place possible. Dr. Maverick’s an excellent doctor, and you’ve got Mira and Emma right there with you. Gabriel won’t let anything happen to you. "
There’s a pause, a catch in her breath that aches through the line. "I’m scared for you too. Please don’t take risks. Not for me. Promise me, Ronan. Please. Will… will you and Jax be here when I wake up?"
My throat tightens, words catching sharp, but Jax leans in, voice rough with conviction. "Nothing could keep us away, Sunshine. We’ll be there the second you open your eyes. That’s a promise. You’re everything to me. Everything . You’re the only thing that matters in this whole damn world."
I hear muffled shuffling, then Gabriel speaks. "She needs to go in now, Ronan. I’ll let you know how the surgery goes the moment I have news."
"Don’t leave her side," I grind out.
"There’s nowhere else I’ll ever be," Gabe says, before the line goes dead.
The weight of her words anchor me in darkness, the core of my being screaming to tear the world apart until there is nothing left in it that can hurt her.
I trust Gabriel with her life, and I know he’s going to be the strength she deserves, but that does nothing to blunt the iron spike of self-loathing twisting inside me.
Anger roars through my blood but beneath it, something arctic gnaws. I failed her. Failed to protect what’s mine. At every level. I missed the threat and let her get hurt because of it. I should have known Hardwick is twisted enough to do this. Should have fucking checked.
My skin crawls with the need to do something, anything. Rage and guilt are a twin pulse in my veins. The filth of this basement clings to me, but the filth of waiting, of helplessness, is worse.
"Jax, we’re going back to the first site. I fucking missed something . I know it. I can feel it."
He nods, jaw carved from stone, eyes ferocious with the same helpless, gnawing anger, but he’s already falling into step beside me. There’s violence in his stride, but a promise too .
Asher intercepts us. "It’ll be a waste of time. Hardwick’s been outmaneuvering the law for years. She’s a fucking ghost when she wants to be." His eyes flash, a brief nod to how our desperation mirrors his own. "If you’re up for it, I have a better idea."
I pause, breath ragged. "Go on."
"Hardwick’s pack are in custody, but they’re hiding behind legal silence.
That silence puts my Omega at risk, and yours, too.
" A muscle ticks in his jaw. "But if you’d like to come to the precinct, I can make sure you get the opportunity to… interview them. Did you know our interview rooms have the best soundproofing in the city? And by the time we finish settling Mick and Kylie, it’ll be time for my dinner break, which usually lasts a good thirty minutes. "
A savage smile breaks across my lips as I get exactly what he’s offering. Space to go where he can’t. I like this Alpha.
Jax matches my grin, his hunger a mirror to mine. "We’re very interested in seeing that interview room, Detective."
It doesn’t take long to drive to the precinct.
Asher and Phoenix lead the way, their sirens a sharp blue stutter that cuts through traffic.
I strangle the wheel, knuckles white, jaw clenched against the clamor of what-ifs and too-late.
Beside me, Jax is a tethered storm in human form, every muscle drawn tight.
Asher’s already out of the car when we park. We follow him up the steps into a blinding fluorescent-lit foyer, stride past the reception desk and through hallways until we reach the last door at the end of a corridor that seems purpose-built for dread. Good .
Asher stops and the set of his jaw says everything. "Don’t forget to share what you think about the soundproofing." He ushers us in before closing the door behind us.
The room is bare except for a bolted-down table and two chairs.
Harsh white light beats down and a vent coughs warm air overhead.
Mick and Kylie sit handcuffed to the table.
Their eyes lock onto us when we enter, confusion flickering fast to unease, then dread as the door shuts behind us and Asher’s silhouette vanishes from the reinforced glass window .
I recognize them. Mick is smaller than I remember from the gala, when Leah knelt at his feet stripped of dignity, her terror a live thing that snaked into the air.
Kylie looks even more diminished in her prison-issued sweatshirt hanging off rounded shoulders.
It’s a far cry from the expensive business suits and superior sneers they both wore that night.
"What the hell is going on?” Mick barks, but his bravado is paper-thin. “Why are we here? You have no right being here without an officer. I demand to talk to my lawyer."
Kylie tries for a sneer, but her chin trembles too much to have any impact. "You can’t do this. The detective will lose his badge, and I’ll see you lose your jobs too. Don’t you know who we are?"